


teach me the courage of the infinite

by antarcticas



Series: zutara arranged marriage aus [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Children, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Fire Nation (Avatar), Fire Nation Royal Family, POV Katara (Avatar), POV Sokka (Avatar), POV Zuko (Avatar), Pregnancy, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Zutara, cute baby, there was no war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24768151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antarcticas/pseuds/antarcticas
Summary: It is those words that destroy him, more than the smiles he sees behind pillars, how the Fire Lord places a hand on her shoulder when she shakes, the way all she wears is red.Katara is betrothed to Zuko and her brother is terrified when he realizes that he may have lost her to a land of fire.Now told three different ways. It's a story about love.
Relationships: Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: zutara arranged marriage aus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831498
Comments: 60
Kudos: 539





	1. explain the stars

**i. a beautiful day**

They do not take her, she goes. She says goodbye and leaves him, leaves their father and mother, leaves the entire tribe, without turning back. He knew she would do it — she’d told him unapologetically that she could not see his face again. It still sears his soul.

The ship which takes her to her new home is larger than anything the tribes have ever seen, a sheer reminder of what this will do for them. The materials it brought them as an initial offering had already been enough. He knows they cannot continue living like this. Their tribe is falling and she is the sacrifice. He does not want to imagine his proud sister on her knees to some Fire Lord, he does not want to accept that she is gone, he does not want to live this life without her. 

She’d taken her belongings and left and she was gone. That was it. Now all he has are memories of her sitting down with their grandmother, her telling him stories, her incessantly chatting with the younger children. Her awkward stitches that didn’t quite pierce the animal skin, her fierce attitude, her playful bending.

He breathes in and hopes they will not. She will be wed in the summer. He will go.

**ii. without revival**

He is almost appalled at the sheer excess of this monarchy but he remembers that this is a wedding. When he docks she is waiting for him but her lithe arms are painted in crimson and there is a new spark in her eyes that is alarming to him. Still, he falls into her arms with a sigh. She does not complain about her life now. It’s strange, almost.

And then he is led into his rooms, then taken out for tea, and then he sits down with a Fire Lord. The Fire Lord who committed patricide, who has half of his face destroyed, who wears his ugly scar with pride. He is terrified but this is his brother so he breathes in and simply sits. 

The man is not what he thought. Katara, now, is not who he thought. Her face when she slides next to her betrothed is familiar, and he makes room next to her. Still she wears crimson, strangely befitting to her dark skin. He cannot see hands move around robes but he is suspicious and he hates himself for it. The man is not terrible, almost just, and he hates himself for it.

At night he goes outside and meets his sister next to a fountain she is bending at and screams when she whispers  _ he did it for me.  _ She moves her hand lazily and yet firmly through the water as he asks for absolution as he reminds her this is a curse. She stays silent and then responds.  _ I am happy here. _

It is those words that destroy him, more than the smiles he sees behind pillars, how the Fire Lord places a hand on her shoulder when she shakes, the way all she wears is red. He thinks about his father, his mother, his grandfather, their people, the shipments that come in monthly, the supplies, and he feels broken.

He leaves her with a single tear running down her face in the courtyard and watches the ceremony from the crowd, watches her swear her heart to a monster, watches his loss happen in front of his very eyes. He almost sobs when the Fire Lady disappears to her quarters for the night, and he leaves the next morning.

**iii. conversation in confined circles**

_ Dear Sokka, _

_ I cannot apologize, and it is for that I am sorry. I am sorry for the pain it will cause you. I want you to know that I miss you all more every day. I want to go home, to see you, to ensure mother’s health — I know that is the reason they did not come. I want to play with the children again and tell stories with you, Sokka, you must know this. But I am no longer a child, even if I wished to be. _

_ Is it so terrible that this cage is open? _

_ I neglected to mention much of this life to you. This is not home, and it is hard during the summer months, which worsened after you left. There is no snow or ice here, the water is different. Yet it’s still lovely. All the servants, too, and I’ve made many friends. There is little discontent here, with the other kingdoms appeased. And I know that the tribe has been doing well, now. _

_ I know you will not understand, but I do feel love for the Fire Lord. I call him Zuko. I think he is my best friend here, Sokka. I feel like you would like him. He is not the monster they make him out to be. I am very glad that I have found him, here in this lifetime; it is special, this kind of love. I was happy there and yet I am also happy here with him, with his mother and his uncle and my new friends. I do not regret this.  _

_ I love him and that is what I meant. My love for you is the same. I will want to visit. _

_ It will be some time, however. I am expecting a child. _

_ I love you too, Sokka. I always will, even these worlds apart. You are a part of my home. _

_ Love, _ _  
_ _ Fire Lady Katara _ _  
_ _ (that’s my official seal — I love you, and I am always your sister) _

**iv. frozen chronicles**

They arrive during their summer. The ice stays intense. This time Katara disembarks the ship draped in blue, a smaller bundle in her arms the color of fire. A larger figure looms about her but Sokka pays him no heed. Instead he runs to his sister and places his head against her neck and falls apart. Then he looks at the boy in her arms.

The child does not look very much like Katara. He has the Fire Lord’s sharp features and pale skin, his ears and hair. For a second it makes him shudder but he holds back, sliding his nephew into his arms in the frigid air. The baby is almost fully swallowed in furs which he knows are from the South, although the gold trimming tells of a new story. Then eyes open, eyes which look like every color the ocean reflects, the sun bouncing off its surface. He falls irrevocably in love and then it is taken away by a creature who looks like a king.

Sokka has pride, if nothing else, and he nods to the man who is his brother. He fails to ignore the smile which befalls the murderer’s face as he holds his progeny, he fails to see his sister’s peaceful look.

That night reintroductions are made and the Fire Lord stays impressive even amongst a world so apart from his. In his peripheral vision he can see his sister crawl into her husband's side, wanting his heat after becoming accustomed to new temperatures. The child sleeps quietly in her arms and they close up together.

This time, again, she goes. This time she looks back.

  
  
  
  



	2. how this universe is made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara's POV.

**i. a stormy day**

She leaves with a heavy heart and she refuses to look back. She will not turn her eyes to Sokka, to her mother and father, to the life she is leaving behind. She will not look back at the place she learned to breathe, to walk, to love. Her head is full of memories and her side is full of aches.

Her trunk is packed and at the bottom of the ship. She leaves the deck and ventures down as quickly as she can, shrugging off her ceremonial outer layer as she sits on the bed of the elaborate quarters that have been prepared for her. She vaguely thinks about opening her trunk, about running Sokka’s harshly inscribed words under her fingers, playing with her mother’s jewelry.

Instead she reaches to her side and pulls out the scroll she had been handed as she descended to her quarters, bearing the Fire Lord’s signature. Her knees creak, suddenly weary, as she falls to the ground. She has never seen the Fire Lord but she has heard stories. Stories about a father killed, a disgraced sister, a mother lost, an uncle. She has heard about an Agni Kai, about a powerful firebender, a face riddled with an ugly scar. She looks at the hands holding the delicate message, their ability to heal. She wonders if he is proud of his warrior’s mark, of the sign that he is formidable. The most powerful, they call him, far more than her world.  _ He upsets the peace.  _

Katara’s hands do not shake as she unrolls the paper.

_ My Dear Lady, _

_ It will be my pleasure to meet you. I am aware that this is unexpected — that we are both young, that you have not yet reached your sixteenth year — but I do wish to know you. I hope you will find a place here, in the Fire Nation.  _

_ I have heard that you are a waterbender. I am installing fountains in our courtyard and your window will face the moon. _

_ I do wish this to be an amicable marriage. _

_ Your Betrothed, _

_ Fire Lord Zuko _

Strangely, the human words calm her soul.

  
**ii. growing pains**

They are children. She is loath to remember this, that he is powerful but barely at his eighteenth year, that he is but a man.

She thinks he is a monster. 

There is a strange fire in his eyes and his scar paints a terrifying visage. He walks with a sort of assurance she has never seen and the line of his brow is hardened. She remembers the kind words of his letter and breathes out as much as she can. Then she settles down next to her soon-to-be husband, idly reaching for some fruit. His eyes peer into her soul and so she makes no move to introduce herself.

He leans to grab a piece and Katara sees the hint of a mottled pink scar on his arm and again she is terrified. But she is strong, so she manages to conceal her discomfort into the tiniest wince; but  _ he  _ is a man born and bred of war and he notices the movement. She can almost feel his energy deflate as he jerks away. That entire breakfast is quiet.

As is the next, then the dinner the evening after. She is given an attendant and makes small talk with her servants. She meetings two girls, named Mai and Ty Lee, who become her companions. A day turns into several months in which they dine in silence and words do not ever fall from where they hang in the air.

Then she walks through the streets of her new city and is pinned to the wall of an alley, her water is taken away, and there are too many attackers, and they are sapping her energy and — and then a bell rings and a hand is removed from her throat just as she falls to the ground, dazed. A strange heat feeds the air and adds to the humidity around her and her mind caves in. She is out for all but a few seconds, and when her blue eyes blink open once again she knows she is in someone’s arms.

A monster’s arms.

They are strong despite their crimes, and she is lost in this thought when a sharp jolt hits her and she keens. Immediately she stops moving and is greeted with  _ My Lady  _ and that — that is when everything changes.

**iii. without a cliff**

She has been in his arms for days, her first line of defense; not intentionally, at first, but now she does not leave to undress, now she aids him as he removes his uncomfortable layers, now she crawls through the tunnel and nobody dares say a thing. 

Now they speak words, now he breathes into her ear fiercely, now she tucks her head under his chin and feels strangely at home in the warmth. Now he waves his hand and light disappears and they lay together in a beautiful place.

She thinks about story nights with Sokka, of her mother’s laugh, her father’s teasing remarks. She has been distant from the part of her that has been drowning for so long, and now she disappears. But she is strong, and so she only lets one tear leave her eye. She cuddles into his bare chest but does not realize that her salty fears have fallen until he pulls her up. And then she meets his eyes and falls further apart.

Katara does not make a sound and that is the difference. His hand glows warm at her side and it tells her what she needs to know. Her eyes weep silently and he reaches out a finger to collect every drop as it falls, placing it on his finger, running it over his lips. He is telling her a new story, telling her sorry the only way she knows how. She runs an arm up his torso and lets her fingers dance around his mouth, such an unblemished part of him. She thinks she will reach there but then —  _ no. _

She remembers kind words and remembers a monster, so she touches her moist lips to his scarred eye. He looks down and she reaches to kiss a blistering hot red lid, knowing this means so much more than what she could have ever imagined. She was told stories of pain and suffering, of murder and mayhem, of everything wrong with power. She was given a savior.

That night they do not own each other; that was the mistake, to think they were the names on parchment. Instead she places the world’s most powerful head by her chin and prays for peace.

**iv. seen by mine**

The preparations are almost unnecessary but Katara will be a proud Fire Lady. She wears the ornaments without complaint, lets her body be dissected, chooses flowers and fruit and colors. Names are read to her as she bends, nobles running through her head.

Ty Lee and Mai are helpful, true to her. They lead her to her sister and she offers the woman a hand which is taken, which is but a bygone. She feels like a true victor when she emerges from the prison and runs into Zuko’s arms.

She practices as much as she can, leaving to witness the sea; she is sent with a retinue of guards but they keep a clear distance, and she cannot object, although she insists that he take his own treatment. His cheeks redden and she is saddened for a childhood she wishes she could return, so she closes her palms around him, telling him a story about love, about always.

Katara is saddened at her mother’s letter; she thinks there is something more at play.

She then thinks about Sokka’s courage as she sees her Fire Lord stand up and lessen their household’s finances in front of his nobility; she thinks of mother’s kindness in his caring grasp, of father’s leadership in his posture, of her grandmother in his obstinance. She ruminates on love as he teaches her meditation, wondering what she feels, wondering if this is real.

One day she comes to a conclusion and is met with a kiss.

**v. geometric conscience**

She is in love and she thanks the stars every day for this; and then Sokka arrives and yet another piece of her is complete. He looks at her strangely, and she knows it must be because of her crimson gown, but she will be the Fire Lady and she is not just his anymore. Crushed in his grip she already knows that this will not be an easy fairytale in his ear.

At tea she introduces her two worlds and her brother mirrors her. She gives Zuko's hand a squeeze under his robe and she can imperceptibly see his mouth twitch in a way only she knows. They are the picture of a diplomatic relationship but she can feel the temperature in the room and her heart clenches and  _ he  _ puts that hand, scar and all, on her shoulder.

She thanks him with a kiss as he leaves, hidden in a way Sokka cannot see. Then she wears her best smile as she walks her brother through the courtyards, through the city, to her favorite tea shop and to the glassblower. Before she leaves him she idles.  _ The moon is gorgeous at the fountain. _

When he meets her there are words stuck in his throat and she watches the water undulate as he speaks his truth, as he asks for absolution, as he clutches her shoulders. Then she damns herself.  _ I am happy here. _

She becomes the Fire Lady the next day but she cries in her wedding bed.

**vi. ask untold**

There is a strange way to it. This day the universe aligns with her and Zuko holds her hand as she throws up once again. The physician comes with his collection of tools and asks about her bleeding and announces a royal pregnancy and her husband looks at her like she is not just his sun but also his sky. 

Her growth is not glamorous, and she knew of what fashion it would be — having aided in such matters before she was married to the Fire Lord — yet as her stomach grows and yet empties she still bites her tongue. It is a difficult child, she knows it. She can feel heat in her belly too, which Zuko cannot. He laughs at her when she tells him that  _ this is a firebender  _ and she makes him leave the bed. He returns with his head hanging.

She writes a letter to her brother during this time, beseeching him to forgive her heart.

Soon she is attached to their bed as tasks run in front of her eyes, as she hires all she must, as she suddenly grows an affinity for this nation’s spices. Her feet are large and she is scared that she might lose this strange love she holds within her. Iroh brings her tea and as she feels faint she is lifted up by her Lord’s love and the reminder she is strong. Water dances over the bulge and she tells stories.

Their son is his father’s, and she loves him more for that.

**vii. lover story**

Her son is placed in his uncle’s arms, then his grandparents’, then even her grandmother’s. He is filled with love, love, and yet she never sees it exude more than it does from the man who lightens the load over her soul. 

She thinks about the world above, thinks about what kind of luck this is, thinks about the man who keeps her warm in this new place. She looks at the snow she danced in as a child, the ice she was raised in, the family she loves. They look at her with suspicion and she knows that they are thinking about a monster. She burrows her face against her husband’s chest.

When they return to their ship a week later she turns back, a bundle wrapped in her arms, a smile alight on her lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko will be coming next. This ship is so terribly beautiful I couldn't stay away.


	3. learn from the galaxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko's POV.

**i. before the walls**

He didn’t mean to kill his father.

Nobody knows that, however, except his uncle. The Agni Kai had been a collision of colors, a room full of fire, and Zuko had been the only one who had seen his father’s face when the flame grew too close. He had been channeling his anger at his family and his hatred of the man into his strokes. He just wanted to maim him. Give him a scar like the one covering his face, punishment for his mother’s fate. He hadn’t wanted to kill him. He is seventeen.

The days after that are a blur. Azula loses her mind, finally, and he isn’t very surprised so he anticipates the attack and traps her in a cell. All the other lords are terrified of him so they fall at his feet. He keeps his head up and his eyes sharp until he ends up at his Uncle Iroh’s side, crying for salvation, counting out his sins. He begs his uncle to take his throne.

Iroh refuses and it angers him but he doesn’t have the heart to insist on his return — he cannot begrudge the man his peace. So Ozai goes up in flames and Zuko inherits the Fire Nation with his lips in a thin line.

At first he hates it but then he settles into the seat behind the wall of fire with a sigh. He has nothing else to live for, now, but this. His family is gone, love is out of the question, he has no friends he can trust. To live a life for his people is not so terrible a fate. He spends months rebuilding the country, whiling away late nights in his library. He invests in technology and education but he doesn’t walk amongst his people. That is why, despite their lives being easier than ever, unrest abounds. Even his Uncle comes to advise him.  _ If you are to be the Fire Lord you must be one with your people. _

He ignores the sentiments and continues on.

**ii. morning lights**

He says  _ no. _

He doesn’t want a family. He would ruin a family, like his ruined him. His hands trace his scar. He can see the turtleducks from here. Azula is still in a cell.  _ Azula always lies.  _ His mother was taken away from him. His father was a murderer and then he was accidentally murdered by his own son . . . he cannot have a family. He does not want a son who will hate him. He does not want a wife who will walk away from him in terror. He does not know how to be a good father or a good husband. 

Iroh insists and soon he realizes that it’s not just him — his advisors, too, inquire into the idea of marriage.  _ The world is afraid of you, my Lord. We are growing stronger and other nations are not — they would like a reminder that you will keep the peace.  _ There is a sentiment underlying it as well,  _ you would not marry otherwise.  _ He doesn’t think it would be so terrible if his bloodline ended with him.

He is pressured for a month and then he eventually agrees to look at the possibilities. He is a slave to his people, after all, and who is he to deny them an alliance. Hopefully he will end up with a wife who is powerful and who his people like. He cannot promise love, he reminds himself. His need for love is destruction.

There is a Toph Beifong from the Earth Kingdom and a Princess from the Northern Water Tribe who are at the top of the list, but his eyes look further down the scroll to the south. He knows that the Southern Water Tribe has not had proper trade relationships with the Earth Kingdom in a while now. He smirks as he thinks about common enemies and taps at the name of the Chief’s daughter. It says she is a waterbender.

**iii. remember yesterday**

It is Iroh who goes to negotiate the treaty. The old man doesn’t meet his betrothed but he brings back snippets he has heard of her personality and a rough sketch of her face.

Zuko wants this marriage out of spite, he reminds himself, running his fingers over the soft strokes of her face. She has dark skin and blue eyes and she is young yet, he is told. But she is also feisty and a strong bender and healer. She accepts the proposal, at least. Her people need the Fire Nation’s stores and supplies. He has respect for her. 

Maybe he has more than that. He grows obsessed with the little piece of paper he keeps near his bedside, he replays the stories he has been told over and over again in his head. He falls too fast, he knows. He works to restrict his emotions and yet the idea of this strong girl makes him shudder. One day he shakes at his incompetence, at his inability to stay focused, and burns the portrait. He feels much worse after.

— 

_ Dear Katara, _

_ It will be nice to meet you. I am looking forward to an amicable marriage. I should not address you by your name, should I? _

_ —  _

_ Dear My Fire Lady, _

_ I am looking forward to making your acquaintance. No, you are not my Fire Lady. Perhaps you truly do not want to be mine. I know you will never read this but I hate that thought. But I also do not want to own you. You will always be free, I hope you will understand this. _

_ —  _

_ My Dear Lady, _

_ I know you must have heard dozens of terrible rumors about me. I hope you know that most are not true. Or, well, that they are not the whole truth. I do not think I am that terrible of a person. I will not be terrible for you. I feel like I would be happy to meet you—  _

_ —  _

_ My Dear Lady, _

_ My sister did not believe in love, or emotions, really. I know we will not know each other well, I know we are both young, but I would like to learn about you. I would like to know you if you would have me. I do not wish to have an antagonistic relationship with you. _

_ Perhaps I have been too optimistic, this whole time. I am not used to this strange balance of power. I will take your lead. I have my honor even if I have nothing else now. I hope you will learn to like me but I would never force my presence on you. I will have to burn this too . . .  _

_ —  _

The letter he sends is less verbose, less heartfelt, but he hopes that it is kind. 

**iv. let it rush**

Katara — she is gorgeous. The picture did her little justice, especially as he lies across from her in the courtyard where they are taking their first breakfast. She is dressed as a member of his court despite looking a little out of place with her curves and striking features. He thinks about his own face — nothing good to begin with, and now defined by an injury — and feels so, so unworthy.

She does not introduce herself so he thinks that there will be some level of silence to contend with for some time — that he can manage. He does not mind the time to trace over her delicate features. She idles away and reaches for some fruit, and he follows a second later.

She is a bender, he can easily tell. She has quick instincts and lithe movements, so she can almost hide her flinch from him. Almost, because Fire Lord Zuko is a bender and a swordsman. He is a man of war even in a world without one. So he notices the slight compression of her arm and he knows what it means.

He moves back to his place as quickly as he can, ensuring his distance from her. The hope in his eyes — the part of him that wished to maybe find love here, the part which loved fairy tales and wants to romance his future wife — disappears. Of course this girl, with shining skin and pure power, is afraid of him.

The only person who he thinks  _ might  _ not be afraid of him is his sister sitting in a rotting room, and that gives him little comfort. So he calmly breathes in the air and reminds himself that he had wished for too much, that he does not deserve any sort of love now. He has his honor — if Katara will not talk to him because she is uncomfortable he will respect her choice. It is only the consequence of his own decisions.

After the meal he does not attend the audience he had planned and instead stalks to his training rooms. He pulls out his swords and ignites the power within him and gets his guard to join him and fight. It takes four of them to even roughly challenge him, and even then he feels unsatisfied. After he nearly takes off their heads he sends them away and freely scorches the walls around him. Anything to let out this monster inside of him.

He promises himself that he will be contained around her, and he is. She ignores him at every meeting and he tries his best not to make his stares — which grow more and more lovestruck — visible. For yes, he is now in love. He simply was attracted to the girl in the picture. Now he overhears her lovely laugh from his rooms and listens to the stories the staff tell about her. They all like her as well. She heals their little scrapes and bruises and makes small talk with them and walks through the city and talks to the shop-owners. His people love her and she loves them because she has an open heart.

Still she does not look into his eyes or direct any sentiments towards him. He is alright. This is his penance.

**v. predicting pain**

He is still in his home when he hears the call and he knows what it means. A member of the royal family is in danger.

Katara is not married to him yet but Iroh is still in his rooms and the sound comes from the city. He runs away from his advisors, sharp ears tracking it. The light crowd of the market splits in front of him and stares in awe. He has not been here in a long time but his aim is not to impress the people. He bends the corner into an alley where two men are being brutally shoved to the ground and his betrothed has her eyes closed, lying on the ground . . . 

_ No, no,  _ he thinks, his mother suddenly flashing in front of his eyes.  _ No.  _ He lets her guards take away the men — he will make them pay later — and collects her into his arms. Her covers are light and he can feel her bare midriff, but it is of little concern to him as he reaches for her hand and is calmed by her heartbeat. He has barely moved his arms back underneath her when she sputters and her eyes burst open, looking slightly dazed.

He feels crushed that this would happen to her here.  _ My Lady . . . I will take you back, now. I am so sorry. _

And yet the smile she gives him in return is blinding and she fades further into him, her dark brown locks brushing against his chest, falling into what looks like a daze. It feels right and he almost lets a real smile cross his lips before he realizes that his men are staring at him. He shouts at them to bring the assassins back to the palace so he can deal with them — and then he carries her to her rooms in view of the public and then places her into her bed and calls a physician, knowing everything has changed.

**vi. paint the sky**

Zuko knows beauty like he knows war and peace — in theory _. _

Or, at least, that is how he knew it before. No longer. Now his world is flooded with it, colors and textures always in his peripheral vision.

There is blue; the color of Katara’s eyes, the color of the dresses she chooses to wear, the color of the water she shapes. Blue, to him, is home, is calm. Now all he has to do to remember her bright smiles is look at the sky above him.

There is roughness; it is in Katara’s valiant quick-to-anger attitude, in the propositions she demands of him in court, in the preciseness of her bending. Roughness, to him, is reality, is truth. Now all he has to do to remember her hands on him is to trace the raised skin he has always detested.

There is light; in Katara’s easily-given smile, in the conversations she has with the peasants she meets on the streets, in her quick and calculated movements. Light, to him, is prosperity, is love. Now all he has to do to remember the softness of her glances is set fire to his palm.

Zuko knows beauty like it has crept up in him and made a home in his heart.

**vii. stand unspoken**

He feels it odd that he will have never met her parents but he shrugs it off and steels himself to meet her brother. Katara tells him about Sokka, about her sibling’s sense of pride and strange humor. Zuko dares himself to have hope once again.

He forgets that he is the Fire Lord, that destruction is personified in him. The man his age who sits across him and drinks tea looks as frightened as she once was with an additional icy layer of hatred. He almost wants to shrink away from the look of loathing on Sokka’s face, and Katara can tell. She reaches out to place a hand on him and although it does relax him it does not do anything to the glare leveled before him.

_ Why am I so bad at being good? _

He discusses politics — that is all he is skilled at, anyways. They talk about shipments and guards and fishing but they don’t talk about what they really have in common; the blissfully oblivious woman who sits next to him with that adoring look on her face. He leaves as soon as appropriate and she thanks him with a hidden kiss that he thinks Sokka might be able to see. He doesn’t even feel bad about the transgression.

But then Katara comes to see him later at night — a night they are not supposed to see each other, a night before their nuptials — and cries to him about loss. He kisses her head and holds her close, slightly incensed at the pain that is being caused to her. He has half a mind to blindly burst out in anger but she feels his heated skin and runs her cooling, healing fingers over him before kissing the scar and leaving.  _ Tomorrow will be amazing. I love you. _

She holds it together during the ceremony but cries before they go to sleep. Zuko does spark this time.

**viii. within a box**

He is devoted to her; she is his goddess. 

At first he was unsure of how he felt about having a child. He remembers his mother and knows that Katara will be like her, and then he remembers his family tradition of patricide and tugs at his own heartstrings. His Fire Lady has her own burden to carry, the struggle of young childbirth, so he tries to keep his thoughts to himself. 

But she knows. She knows him better than she knows herself. She presses his face to the slight bulge of her stomach and whispers story after story and slowly he grows used to the idea.

When she sleeps he keeps his own secrets, an eternal conversation between him and the child he feels will be a waterbender.  _ I am already proud of you, you already have honor, I will never let you go.  _ And then he is reminded to let go of the past so he whispers again.  _ I will love you unconditionally. I already do. I love the movements you make against my hand and the way you respond to us. I love you. _

There are fallbacks of course. Sometimes he wonders how much love he can feel for a being he has not even touched once, and that leads to a spiral of lies and exile. Iroh gives him a sad smile and reminds him that emotion is strength, not weakness. 

Katara grows even more beautiful and he wonders how it is even possible. Yet every day he learns to love her more. He loves massaging her and holding her, weeping, in his arms; he loves the new curves of her body and her motherly instincts. He has steadfast faith in her, always.

Their child looks like him but he has his mother’s soul. Zuko knows.

**ix. constellation passage**

He is overprotective.

For now Katara does not seem to mind because she is too, but he can see that Sokka has an issue with it. His wife and child are pressed up against his warm body in the icy temperature; his son is fast asleep and he hopes his love will not follow. The cold, itself, is not that hard for him to bear, but the chills of the stares around him do terrify him. 

His wife is glorious but she does not seem to understand why her family might dislike him.  _ I love you, and they will love you too. Her heart is too big _ , he thinks, and smiles at her face burrowed into his chest. He prays to the stars above that she will never have to deal with any kind of pain that will remove that hope from her. He runs his warm fingers over his son’s swathed forehead and repeats the sentiment, ignoring the people around him. 

Hakoda speaks up once Katara is truly out in a whisper. He gestures for him to carry his wife while Sokka takes his child and he places her into a bed of animal skins in a house built of ice. 

Zuko thinks that his new father will lecture him — but instead the man gives him a look of understanding and says  _ take care of them. _

**x. all of your bravery**

He is up early, as always. The sun is bright above the horizon and it energizes him. He is trying to calmly untangle himself from Katara’s arms when a figure comes to loom over him. Sokka.

Reinvigorated, he places his child closer to her arms and sighs in happiness as she encases the baby in her warmth. After a few cursory safety checks he hears Sokka hiss at him and exits the room. 

His brother takes him fishing. They sit on the boat in silence for a while. And then:  _ you are a monster. _

_ I don’t wish to be. I will never hurt Katara or our child. _

_ She says she is happy with you.  _ Sokka’s arms brush the water.  _ Why? _

_ All I know is that I love her. _

_ You do? _

_ I do. True love — I love every part of her. I could never hurt her. _

Sokka’s eyes thaw and he looks out towards the glaciers on the horizon.  _ I do, for some reason, believe you. You look at her like you can see the universe in her eyes. _

_ I can. _

When they leave for home once again he sees a different horizon. That night the stars write a new story into this infinity. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well . . . this got away from me.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> My friends and I have all been virtually watching ATLA together -- it aired when we were really young (like, when we were born) and it's been a lot of time since most of us have watched it. It took me some time to realize that this fandom actually has a ship war because I'm not active on Twitter/Tumblr/anything. I don't really need to address it here, but I did find it strange. Live and let live, you know. But I get why people are passionate about these ships.
> 
> I feel as though we all like Zutara now (in opposed to Kataang when we were younger) because Zuko and Katara are the characters we can relate to now that we aren't in elementary school and thinking we can save the world. Zuko and Katara as characters make so many of the mistakes that we do; Katara is trying to grow into her own and Zuko is trying to be a better person. It's interesting to see that growth, and sad that ATLA was aired for children our age ten or so years ago.
> 
> And it's also amazing how much we empathize with these fictional characters. I find it incredible just how passionate we can feel about ships and character deaths; creative storytelling is such an important part of the world and it has contributed so much to human emotion. To formulate a story that can cause actual heartache is so hard to do. All put aside, ATLA really does that. That's why, even more than fifteen years after it aired, we're still here.
> 
> Sorry for this long note -- I hope you liked the AU world I created out of a drabble that was supposed to be less than 500 words long. I have a lot of feelings about this and I hope that I didn't push too many boundaries with it, as I know they can be testy. Thank you for reading, friends. Stay safe in this strange world we live in, and keep believing in these stories <3
> 
> Edit: anyway, as of September 2020 I've written a lot more Zutara (an absurd amount) and I'm not very happy with the sentence structure of this one -- or anything about it. That said, it'll always have a place in my heart for being my first Zutara fic :D. This fandom has my entire heart, thank you all.


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